


I Need You (To Need Me)

by Anonymous



Category: SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Possessive Behavior, Stalking, Unrequited Love, Yandere Spongebob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 02:57:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11774061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Spongebob makes offers Squidward couldn't possibly refuse. Except he does. So Spongebob offers, and then takes.





	I Need You (To Need Me)

So, admittedly, the first time was a complete accident. He didn’t mean to take away another good thing in Squidward’s life, he never  _ever does_ , in fact, despite all the evidence pointing to the contrary. He was just wondering where Squidward was sneaking off to on an almost nightly basis. He’d been worried, that’s all. And the sight of Squidward’s silhouette through the window blinds was something he sorely missed.

_And_ , furthermore, the night wasn’t safe, and ergo Squidward going out at night was dangerous. Spongebob had just wanted to protect him. So he followed him to the nearby park as anyone else would’ve done, and saw a bunch of other familiar faces – the Pods, he found out, were having another showdown soon, which explained the nightly practice sessions.

He watched from behind a bush as Squidward laughed along with them as one messed up a move. It was a side of Squidward he wasn’t accustomed to seeing and it made him all the more suspicious – since when was Squidward was so cheerful? It seemed wrong, like Squidward was putting up a front. And if Squidward had to pretend to be liked by those guys then they weren’t very good for him at all.

But Spongebob realized he was being silly.

Squidward soon left to go back home, leaving the other three, and Spongebob approached for some casual conversation.

“Hey,” he greeted, and the cephalopods all cast him the same withering look.

“Were you spying on us?” One of them, Fat-nose, accused.

“Yeah, isn’t he one of the Sharks?” Tall-skinny-and-pimply added.

“Oh, I’m closer to Squidward than I am to the Sharks! That was just a one-time thing,” he explained with a giggle. “But Squidward’s my neighbor and co-worker and best friend and I was just checking in on his other friends, y’know, normal friend-ish stuff?”

To Spongebob’s confusion, their glares only intensified.

“Squidward’s been feeding information to the Sharks? How could he?” One of them muttered.

“Oh, but I’m not—“ Spongebob tried again, only to be ignored.

“We can’t have a traitor in our dance troupe!” And as they started muttering about the issue among themselves, Spongebob tiptoed away nervously.

He was only human, after all. So of course he felt guilty when, the next night, he saw Squidward slink back into his house not five minutes after having left. The octopus was hunched over dejectedly and stopped to throw his dance outfit into the garbage before heading in and slamming the door.

How could they _,_  Spongebob thought angrily.Some friends they were, kicking Squidward to the curb like that, thinking he was a snitch. It was a good thing he exposed them for the frauds they were before so that Squidward wouldn’t have wasted more time with them.

The lights switched on in Squidward’s bedroom and he saw a familiar silhouette. Spongebob smiled, comforted by the knowledge that at least Squidward was safe.

It was a good thing everything had worked out. He and Patrick would just have to work twice as hard as friends to make up for the pod-shaped hole in Squidward’s life.

 

* * *

Squidward seemed to be even dourer than usual following the dance troupe incident, and guilt was eating away at Spongebob. While he knew it wasn’t his fault, he hadn’t thought Squidward’s dejection would last this long.

Oh well, Spongebob figured. It was the perfect opportunity to cheer him up.

He had a great idea. It required a bit of breaking and entering but in the end, it would all be worth it. So he sneaked into Squidward’s art room and looked around for the perfect specimen. It took a while, but he was able to snatch it and leave a replica in its place. Squidward was going to be so impressed.

One thing he didn’t count on was that Squidward would already be feeling better the next day, without his help.

He gasped in dismay as he arrived at work, the first thing he heard being Squidward’s excited voice as the octopus told Mr. Krabs he would have to leave work early as he had an audition for a musical showcase.

This wouldn’t do, Spongebob thought frantically. If Squidward was already happy then his plan would have no effect.

Sometimes, to make an omelette, you had to break a few eggs.

So he rummaged through their shared locker and found what he was looking for: Squidward’s clarinet. Without hesitation, he snapped it in half.

Spongebob made sure to keep to himself, grilling quietly when Squidward came in the kitchen near closing time. He opened the locker, took one look at its contents and then shrieked. After that, Mr. Krabs came in and the two got into a shouting match, the former insisting that never would’ve happened if he’d had his own locker.

At that point, Spongebob slipped out of the restaurant unnoticed, and waited.

His target came moseying out soon after, looking catatonic. “Squidward,” he said, trying to sound as casual as possible. “Got any plans tonight?”

“No… Not anymore,” Squidward said, his voice distant. He hadn’t even stopped to look at Spongebob, gloomily heading in the direction of their neighborhood.

“Good!” Spongebob said, falling in step beside him. “Because I’ve got something I wanna show you.”

Squidward turned toward him, his eyes bloodshot. “Spongebob, I really don’t have the—“ he began, but Spongebob cut him off by grabbing his wrist and pulling him in the opposite direction.

“Nonsense!” he said. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

Galleria Diphtheria was buzzing with visitors, comprised exclusively of those belonging to the upper echelons of society. Without paying any heed to anyone else, Spongebob pulled Squidward through a crowd full of individuals dressed to the nines in suits and cocktail dresses. They stuck out like two sore thumbs, and their casual wear did not go unnoticed, much to Squidward’s annoyance.

“Are you trying to embarrass me even more?” he hissed, but Spongebob didn’t reply. He led him through one of the hallways focused on modern art, where painting after painting decorated the walls.

“Ta-da!” Spongebob announced, gesturing at a familiar portrait that was surrounded by onlookers.

“My painting,” Squidward said, eyes widening. “What’s my painting doing in…”

“Don’t worry,” Spongebob whispered. “I already had Fiasco banned from the premises.” Squidward was busy staring, and acted like he hadn’t heard him.

Spongebob gave him a doting look, happiness bubbling in his chest. His plan had been a rousing success. It was always a great achievement whenever he managed to make Squidward happy, and the rush he got from doing it was intoxicating. It left him wanting to do  _more_.

An unexpectedly familiar voice snapped him out of his reverie.

“Look, I’m willing to give twenty grand for it. I  _must_  have that painting for my private collection, it’s absolutely— Squiddy? You made this?”

Both Spongebob and Squidward froze. Things were about to get even better, or marginally worse; Spongebob honestly couldn’t tell. He covered his mouth in shock as Squilliam stepped out of the crowd, accompanied by an art dealer and backed by his usual posse.

“It’s a Tentacles original,” Squidward said with as much false bravado he could muster in a moment’s time. “What are  _you_  doing here?”

“Shopping. I just redecorated, added a whole new floor to my mansion.”

Squidward eyed him, one eyebrow raised. “So, you’re willing to buy my portrait for… Twenty grand, did you say?”

“Well, this painting…” Squilliam said. For once, he was struggling to get words out. The trademark leer was gone; this time, he regarded Squidward with curiosity. “It… Really brings out your eyes.”

“I’ll have you know that I… Wait a second,” Squidward paused, blinking confusedly at his rival. “Was that a compliment?”

“Maybe,” Squilliam grumbled, crossing his arms. Spongebob looked back and forth between the both of them, baffled by this odd turn of events.

“So, about how this painting got here…” He tried to explain, but Squidward cut him off, gaze still locked with Squilliam’s.

“Well, your unibrow looks quite fetching tonight, I admit,” he said.

“Why, thank you. I’m glad  _someone_  noticed.” Squilliam glared at his posse, who collectively shrank back.

“Umm, guys…” Spongebob tried again, to no avail.

“Maybe we should discuss the sale in private?”

“Have you been to the café here? They have excellent tea…” They were walking away side by side, leaving Spongebob in the crowd.

“What just happened?” He wondered out loud. Anger quickly replaced confusion, because Squidward was happy, yes, but thanks to  _Squilliam_. While he had been practically invisible. It wasn’t fair that Squilliam got to reap the benefits, and have tea with Squidward. 

While he stood there dumbly until management kicked out of the establishment for not following dress code.

* * *

“Disgusting,” he practically spat, in a very unSpongebob-like manner, as he watched the scene unfold before him. Even Patrick looked taken aback by his words, and stopped mid-bite to mumble “You really need to relax,” before finishing off his Krabby Patty. “They look like brothers!” Spongebob continued to rant, his knuckles clenched so hard that the rag he was holding was immediately wrung dry.

“If Squidward wants to make out with his brother, then good for him, I guess,” Patrick shrugged.

Spongebob gritted his teeth and tried not to hear their vomit-inducing flirting, ending up scrubbing the table with so much vigor that the paint was starting to chip off. He tried not to look at them, either, but the way Squidward was practically draped all over Squilliam’s lap and feeding him a burger while they giggled… He couldn’t  _not_  watch. Even though his stomach twisted with every sickening bite Squilliam took, the way his teeth lightly grazed Squidward’s hand each time.

Spongebob couldn’t take it anymore. The rage was consuming him from the inside out: Krabby patties weren’t meant to be bitten in such small portions. 

He zoomed over to them and yelled “Mr.-Krabs-wants-you-in-his-office!”, almost breathing a sigh of relief when Squidward turned heel and left, muttering about the mood being killed. Squilliam leaned an elbow on the table, chin in hand as his features transformed into a smug grin.

“Must you always hang around Squiddy like the annoying pest that you are?”

“Squidward and I are inseparable,” Spongebob said, even though he wasn’t quite sure yet about what point he was trying to make with that statement.

“Funny, in the week that we’ve been dating, he hasn’t mentioned you at all.”

“You’re planning something, I know it. You’re just going to hurt him in the end.”

Squilliam sneered. “Is that what you really think?”

“I don’t think, I  _know_.”

“Wanna know what I think? I think you’re just jealous.” Spongebob almost laughed at the ridiculousness of his claim.

“Of that unibrow? It’s  _so_  last season.”

“No, kelp for brains.” And then his voice dropped to a low whisper. “You’re jealous that Squidward’s screaming my name every night.”

Spongebob wasn’t phased in the slightest. “I’ll have you know that Squidward screams my name not just every night, but in the mornings too, and whenever I mess up an order!” When Squilliam just rolled his eyes, he continued in an even more vicious tone. “Stay away from him. What you’re doing is out of line.”

“Me?!” Squilliam sputtered, finally caught off guard. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re the one who’s always looking at him like a creep. He needs protecting from  _you_.”

“Real funny, Fancyson.”

“That wasn’t a joke!” Squilliam made an exasperated noise and stood up to leave. Spongebob watched him go, knowing he was up to no good. There was no way Squilliam  _wasn’t_  planning something. He needed to save Squidward from this lunatic.

All he needed was some proof.

Unfortunately, Squilliam was a lot better at hiding evidence than he thought. Even when he practically turned the manor upside-down, there was nothing incriminating that he could use to prove that Squilliam was playing Squidward.

No letters, or suspicious clothing, or DNA samples…

…Like he had… Expected? Or rather, hoped.

That is, until he unscrewed a gilded doorknob. A velvet box fell out from inside, right into Spongebob’s open hand.

“I found you,” he crowed, and hurriedly snapped it open. “… A ring?”

“This is getting really disturbing. You need professional help.” He swiveled around and saw Squilliam in the doorway, staring in horror.

“I don’t need a professional to prove that you’re guilty,” he replied, holding up the offending item. “This ring is poisoned, or something!”

“Or,” Squilliam suggested, pacing. “…Or I’m going to propose. And Squidward can quit his job and come live here with me and he’ll never have to see your buck teeth and eerie-looking dimples again.”

Conch Street without Squidward had already felt unbearable. But for Squidward to be whisked away from him completely, a life devoid of his favorite cephalopod… He would be antsy and Squidward would be miserable. No one could make him happy the way Spongebob could, especially not  _Squilliam_.

Spongebob knew one thing: Squidward’s absence from his side was the last thing Squilliam should have threatened him with.

This was going to be a piece of cake.

* * *

When the incident occurred, Spongebob watched gleefully from his bedroom window. This was turning out to be better than any soap opera. Squilliam was storming out of Squidward’s house, with the latter chasing after him.

“The lifeguard?! Really?  _Him_?” Squilliam roared as he tossed a pair of board shorts at Squidward – the same ones Spongebob had filched from the gym and planted in Squidward’s tub.

“I’ve never seen those before in my life!” Squidward replied. “I never even talked to Lester!”

“I’m done,” Squilliam said bitterly as he kept walking, ignoring the other octopus, who watched him go with tears in his eyes.

“There’s my cue,” Spongebob said under his breath. He raced downstairs and burst out the door, giddy with joy as he found Squidward still crying on the pavement. Immediately, he pulled him into a hug.

“You’re too good for him, you know. If he never trusted you in the first place then it’s clear he didn’t deserve you,” he recited, having practiced this speech for hours on end.

Squidward’s body slackened in his grip, and Spongebob felt him sigh.

“I guess…”

He looked up and respectfully kept quiet as Squidward wiped the wetness from his eyes.

“I don’t know what possessed me to want to say this, but thanks for always looking out for me, Spongebob.” And then he flashed Spongebob the barest hint of a smile. Spongebob finally drew away from the hug, but kept one protective hand on his back.

“No problem, buddy. Hey, wanna walk to work together?”

Squidward shook his head. “Nah. Too many memories. And I’d rather be alone for a while, if you don’t mind.” He extracted Spongebob’s hand, sighed again and started walking the other way, headed downtown. It meant an extra thirty minutes to get to the Krusty Krab, and this time, Spongebob was at a loss.

Squidward turned down his help.

Squidward had very little left to lose, but he still refused to be helped by Spongebob.

He looked at the direction of their workplace. The top was barely visible, four hundred yards away, and yet Squidward preferred to take the longer route, specifically without his company.

It didn’t make sense. Squidward clearly wasn’t in his right mind to be making such risky decisions.

But how to convince him to want to be by Spongebob’s side?

He hazarded a guess.

* * *

One anonymous phone call later, he was at the Krusty Krab when Squidward burst in, covered in scratches. His shirt was torn, and his hat looked like something had taken a bite out of it. Breathing heavily, he limped toward the counter, where Spongebob was waiting.

“What happened?” he asked, feigning confusion.

“Sharks,” Squidward uttered. “The S-sharks… They were waiting around the corner, like they knew I was going to be there. They accused me of claiming to be one of theirs, I had no idea what they were talking about. B-barely got away.” Spongebob’s dream had come true: Squidward was sobbing in his arms, and it was finally, finally his opportunity to shine. He smiled into Squidward’s shoulder. It’s not like he had  _wanted_  Squidward hurt, but dance troupes hated snitches more than anything, and Spongebob couldn’t protect him if he was always wandering off on his own. The Sharks had been bound to find out either way.

“You should stick by me, alright?” He said soothingly. “The Sharks still count me as one of their own. They won’t touch you if they know you’re with me.”

And for the rest of their walks to and from work, Squidward was practically glued to his side.

* * *

Sure, Squidward didn’t talk much. In fact, he was more sullen than ever, and so jumpy that Spongebob had to speak in low tones just to avoid startling him. They no longer bantered, and Spongebob kind of missed the insults.

Squidward wasn’t the same anymore. Spongebob couldn’t understand why he still wasn’t happy. He had given him  _everything_ : from a portrait at a high-class museum to absolute safety and security. And he got rid of his terrible friends and up-to-no-good boyfriend.

Maybe… Maybe they just needed to spend more time together so he could figure out what was making Squidward so sad. And then he could fix it, like always.

“Squidward, wanna come over and play boardgames?” He said brightly as they arrived at Conch Street from work.

“S’okay,” came Squidward’s glum reply. Right after that, he disappeared into his house and shut the door. Spongebob scratched his head.

He realized it was hard being there for Squidward when they lived in separate houses.

There was a solution for that, too.

* * *

Patrick hadn’t been so thrilled by the idea, but he ended up doing the deed anyway, much to Spongebob’s relief. He did also, however, confront Spongebob when he got home.

Patrick looked at him with uncharacteristic revulsion in his eyes.. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Spongebob, but I don’t like it,” he said, before tossing the box of matches at Spongebob. It bounced off his chest, and he touched the spot tenderly.

“What’s wrong, Patrick?” He asked. It seemed strange for Patrick to be so accusatory.  _He_ was the one acting weird around here.

“I’m saying I’m not getting involved in your business anymore. Whatever else you’re planning, I am out. You’ve gone too far this time, buddy.” There was a tone of finality to his voice, and he turned his back on Spongebob and headed for the door.

“Poor Squidward,” he mumbled, and Spongebob wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear it. This struck a nerve. Patrick clearly wasn’t even trying to understand his intentions.

“This is for his own good!” Spongebob yelled, but the starfish continued his way out the door.

Later, Squidward was unusually blasé about coming home and seeing his house burned to the ground.

* * *

Spongebob sat in the dark in his favorite chair, watching TV. Normally, he would’ve blasted the channel at full volume. But these days, it was perpetually on mute. Not that he minded, of course. The sound of Squidward sleeping on his couch, just a few feet away, was much more pleasant to listen to. Occasionally the octopus would sniffle in his sleep. He was clearly still upset about losing everything he owned, but Spongebob was always going to be around to pick up the pieces.

He’d been so nice as to offer up even his bed for Squidward to share, but the other male had politely declined. Which he didn’t understand, as staying downstairs would make the night terrors worse. Squidward’s panic attacks weren’t getting better, so Spongebob had already planned to throw out his couch tomorrow (it was old, anyway) and Squidward would have no choice but to reconsider his offer.

For now, though…

After all this care-taking, he desperately needed to unwind. And what better way than to indulge in his favorite past time? There was just something about seeing all those tentacles squirming that really got him going. A familiar anemone wriggled on screen and he stifled a grunt as he brought himself to completion in short, silent jerks.

Spongebob sighed as he started to wipe himself clean with a tissue. Squidward was snoring lightly now. He laughed silently at the funny noise, and twisted around his chair to gaze fondly at the sleeping form of his guest.

Squidward was where he belonged, and everything felt right again. And if he had to be the sole source of Squidward’s happiness from now on, so be it. He would happily carry that burden until the end of time.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was the result of combining several prompts (yandere!spongebob, jealous!spongebob and masturbation) that were submitted to my tumblr, squidbob-is-canon. I would say that Spongebob's predatory behavior in this fic is dialed up compared to the show but... It actually isn't. Hope you enjoyed!


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